Home for Christmas
by BlueDream1
Summary: Secret Santa Fic for GreyTide... Jack is saved on the island and returned to Kate in time for Christmas.


**Title:** Home for Christmas

**Pairing:** Jack & Kate

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don´t own any of the characters in this story. They belong to the amazing writers of Lost, as well as the song (_Driving Home For Christmas_) belongs to Chris Rea.

**Author´s note:** Written for **Grey Tide** (**Tangler**) as part of Lost Secret Santa Fic Exchange.

Sorry it´s a bit late – I was on a trip for holidays and didn´t much have time for writing :( Hope you like it anyway and I wish you a Merry Christmas and all the best in 2012!

_**Home For Christmas**_

A yellow cab glided down the sparkly streets of San Diego as a man, dressed in jeans, green shirt and a simple leather jacket, stared out through its window. The neighborhoods passed by, one more decorated than the other. People chatted, some putting up the last Christmas ornaments, others walking their dogs. Families could be seen inside their homes, gathered around Christmas trees; the adults toasting with their shiny glasses, the kids either running around or keeping their faces glued to the windows as if not to miss Santa and his reindeer.

The streets radiated with that magical anticipation characteristic for Christmas Eve, but Jack Shephard was oblivious to all that; his mind set on only one thing. Her. _Kate_.

Ever since he´d gotten his memory back, she was his main concern. The first thought when he´d wake up, and the last one before he´d go to sleep. The memory of her face, her voice, her taste was what had kept him going on, kept him sane during those long weeks of therapy when he had to learn not only to walk but to talk again as well.

He still couldn´t wrap his mind around what had happened after he´d seen the plane go off. He remembered feeling finally at peace, knowing his life was about to end but being happy nevertheless, because he was saving the people he loved. He was saving _her_. With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and, after that, everything was blackness.

When he had opened them again, he found himself staring at a blank, dirty ceiling of a small cabin. He didn´t recognize the cabin, or the people around him. They spoke a language he didn´t understand, and when they´d finally managed to bring someone who could speak basic English, he found out that the local fishermen had found him floating in the ocean, holding onto a piece of wood that´d probably saved his life. They´d gotten him into their boat and brought him to their village, where he´d been in and out of consciousness for two weeks until he´d finally woken up. That was the _good_ news.

The _bad_ news was that he was in a pretty bad condition. His leg was broken; he had a knife wound on the right side of his abdomen, a nasty cut starting from his shoulder and running down his right arm, and a serious looking bruise at the back of his head. The head injury probably caused a swelling on his brain, so he had a difficult time connecting words in phrases, and could only communicate in short words.

The _worst_ news, however, was that he didn´t remember who he was or how he´d found himself in the ocean.

The villagers took care of him the best they could; then, when it was possible again, due to bad weather and incessant monsoon rains, organized his transport to a larger town, where he´d spent weeks in a hospital that had better conditions than the village he´d first been at, but was still incomparable to modern, or even _normal_ hospitals the western world had. Still, they took good care of him and, in their expert hands; he started to mend, first physically, then emotionally as well. His memory started coming back in flashes: images of an island and people; events that didn´t make much sense, but would haunt his brain for hours as he laid in his hospital bed, trying to wrap his mind around them.

As chaotic and blurry as those images were, one face kept coming back: the one of a beautiful brunette with emerald eyes and freckled face, appearing in front of his eyes over and over again, until one day, all of a sudden, he remembered her name: _Kate_. And after that, all pieces of the puzzle fell into place: soon, he remembered who he was, what he did for a living, who the beautiful brunette was and how the island fit into all that.

With her in mind, he´d endured all the exercises, gotten his ability to walk and talk again and, after some bureaucratic difficulties to obtain the needed documents, he was finally free to leave the country and go back home.

_Home_. Before the island, before her, home was just a place, an (empty) apartment to spend the night at between two hospital shifts. After, he didn´t associate the word with a building anymore. Nor city. Nor state. Home was, simply, Kate.

And here he was now – driving back to his home.

He looked forward to it and dreaded it at the same time. _Would everything be the same? Would she accept him back? What if she was too pissed off at him for choosing the island instead of her? What if she´d found someone else? After all, it´d been three months. What if…_

No, he wouldn´t think about that. He´d decided it weeks ago. Whatever happened… he´d know he had tried. If everything had changed, he´d find a way to deal with it. He would have to. He wouldn´t blame her, _no_. He knew he´d broken her heart – he´d known it already on the island. And he´d still chosen to go on with his plan. That´s why he wouldn´t blame her if she´d opened new page. He doubted it though. He knew she loved him, as much as he loved her. And he knew how hard it´d be for him to get over her. He´d tried it a couple of times in the past, always with the same result: he couldn´t get her out of his heart. And he knew her love for him was just as sincere.

The cab driver switched the radio on another channel and a familiar melody filled the air.

_I´m driving home for Christmas_

_Oh, I can't wait to see those faces_

_I'm driving home for Christmas, yeah…_

Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

˝Excuse me? ˝the driver said, turning his head to look at Jack. ˝Did you say something? ˝

Jack smiled. ˝Nah. It´s just…this song. It´s fitting. ˝

The cab driver smiled too. ˝Yeah, I guess it is. ˝

_... And it's been so long,_

_But I will be there._

_I sing this song_

_To pass the time away._

_Driving in my car,_

_Driving home for Christmas..._

˝So… who are you driving home to? ˝the driver asked after a few moments, startling Jack from his thoughts.

˝Oh, my… my fiancée. ˝he replied, his lips spreading into a smile at the word.

The driver nodded. ˝Congratulations. ˝

˝Thanks. ˝

_... I take look at the driver next to me._

_He's just the same,_

_Just the same…_

˝And you? ˝

˝Sorry? ˝

˝You must have someone home too, someone I´m stopping you from being with. ˝

˝Oh, yeah… I have a wife. A wife and two kids. ˝the driver replied.

˝Oh. Sorry, man. ˝Jack apologized.

˝That´s okay. ˝the cab driver said. ˝The bills won´t pay themselves, and they know that. Plus, I live in LA too, so I can be home pretty soon after I drop you off. ˝

Jack nodded.

˝Your fiancée… she knows you´re coming? ˝

Jack shook his head. ˝No, she… She thinks I died. ˝he said, looking down in shame.

The driver looked up in the rear mirror. ˝Oh, well… think about it this way: at least you´re giving her the best imaginable Christmas present then. ˝

Jack´s eyes met the driver´s in the mirror and he smiled. ˝Yeah, I guess I am. Thanks. ˝

˝No problem. Listen… there´s still 120 miles till LA, why don´t you try to get some sleep and I´ll do my best to get you to your fiancée as soon as possible? ˝

Jack nodded, thanked the driver; then sank back in his seat. He leaned his head against the cold window and watched the streets pass by, knowing that with each mile passed, he was closer to Kate.

He wondered what she was doing in that moment.

´Probably battling with Aaron over going to bed. ´he thought with a smile. The boy was great when it came to bedtime – except on Christmas Eve. He remembered how much he´d insisted last year that he was old enough to stay awake to see Santa. They knew he wouldn´t be able to resist sleep that long, but they let him anyway; enjoying his childish enthusiasm. He could imagine Kate going through the same thing this Christmas Eve too.

´God, I hope she gets to spend it with Aaron. ´he thought as he remembered that things weren´t the same this year. He loved Claire, and he knew that Aaron belonged to her; but he also knew how much Kate cared for the boy, and he for her; and he hoped that they´d managed to find a solution that would keep Kate in Aaron´s life.

_... So I sing for you,_

_Though you can't hear me._

_When I get through_

_Oh, and feel you near me..._

_I´m driving in my car…_

He remembered the driver´s advice. He knew he wouldn´t fall asleep – he was too excited to sleep. The thought that he would see her in less than two hours was taking his breath away. And yet, it was true. After three long months, he´d finally see those beautiful green eyes again. Hear her voice. See her smile. The memory of her lips, of their last kiss, was itched deep into his skin; and he longed to feel them again. Taste them again.

˝Soon. ˝he whispered.

And with that thought in mind, he closed his eyes…

_...I´m driving home for Christmas,_

_Driving home for Christmas,_

_With a thousand memories…_

* * *

><p>p.s. I imagined this as a twothree-shot, so expect the following chapter(s) in a day or two ;) Merry Christmas once again, to **GreyTide**, to **kab16** who organized SecretSanta this year too; and to all who are reading this fic. :)


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